


A Kestrel In Moonlight

by Femme (femmequixotic)



Category: Westmark - Lloyd Alexander
Genre: Infidelity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-20
Updated: 2011-11-20
Packaged: 2017-10-26 08:04:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/280693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/femmequixotic/pseuds/Femme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Time and again, he comes to this bed in this house on the outskirts of Marianstat. (Theo/Florian; set between The Kestrel and The Beggar Queen.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Kestrel In Moonlight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sevenall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevenall/gifts).



> Written for sevenall in the Yuletide 2008 Challenge. Huge thanks to Beth H and Dragon for betaing.

Theo loves Mickle. He loves the way she laughs, the way she curls next to him on cold nights, a book in one hand, on the couch beside the warm hearth in her rooms in the Juliana. He loves her when they argue and her eyes snap at him and she calls him a stupid fool until he turns away, furious, unable to even look at her. He loves her when she leans over his shoulder while he's sketching, and he can smell the rosewater she bathes in.

He loves her when she teases Las Bombas, making him blush and stammer. He loves her when she storms into the counsels' room in high dudgeon, sending papers flying, narrowing Justin's eyes and causing Florian to lean back in his chair, a small smile on his lips, waiting for his monarch's latest rant against some injustice she's only just discovered.

And yet, time and again, he comes to this bed in this house on the outskirts of Marianstat when the night is dark and the moon is high, spilling its light through the small paned windows and across the sheets that are tangled around their hips, their legs.

"Florian," he whispers, as he's pressed back into the mattress, and Florian's hand slides down his side, over his arse.

It started before the war, before the deaths of Stock and Rina, before he became lost in the numbing, blood-soaked madness of The Kestrel. One night, still recovering from Skeit's bullet, he found himself outside the millhouse, staring up at the stars, his head filled with distress for Westmark, fear of the Regians, anguish for what Mickle must be thinking of his absence.

The door had opened, and Florian leaned against the doorjamb, watching him for a moment, before he'd reached out and smoothed his fingertips against Theo's furrowed brow. "Too many worries for one so young," he'd murmured, and Theo's breath had caught.

Florian's mouth had been soft and warm, and when his fingers had curled around Theo's wrist, Theo had let Florian lead him upstairs, drawing him down onto the bed with him.

Theo loves Mickle. He's no doubt of that. He aches for the day that they can marry, that all this damned governing will be done and he can put aside the title of counsel and retreat to the quiet of his notebook and inks.

His fingers twist in Florian's hair; he gasps as Florian bites down his throat. His cock bobs against his stomach, hard and red, and when Florian's thumb slides over the head, Theo groans and arches up.

Florian smells of whisky and tobacco. His hair brushes Theo's cheek as he leans in to kiss him. Moonlight gleams over the pale skin of his shoulder. His gray eyes are shadowed. He's a mystery to Theo, a dichotomy, a stranger despite years of friendship. There are few people Theo trusts more-and few that he trusts less. He wants to hate Florian, wants to fear his influence. He doesn't. He couldn't.

"Breathe," Florian murmurs against his cheek with a chuckle, and Theo grabs his hair and pulls him into a rough kiss, rolling him over.

He straddles Florian's hips and sits up, looking down at him. Pockmarks mar Florian's cheeks; his mouth is thin. His shoulders are broad, and his belly soft after a year of uneasy peace. His light brown hair is spread across the pillow. Theo runs a hand over it, twisting a lock around his finger before letting it fall back against Florian's shoulder. He thinks Florian's beautiful.

Florian watches him in that inscrutable manner of his. "What are you thinking?"

Theo doesn't answer for a moment. His fingertips slide over Florian's chest. "Justin would be furious if he saw us."

"Justin?" Florian raises an eyebrow. His hands grip Theo's hips. Theo can feel Florian's balls against his arse, and it sends a shiver of want through him. Florian traces a circle over one of Theo's hipbones. "Yes, I suppose he would raise some question or another regarding the propriety of two counsels fucking, particularly should he think we're conspiring against him." His face sobers. "My little eagle does have the tendency to assume the worst. He's not whom I think would be furious, though."

"Don't," Theo says. He doesn't want to talk about her. Not here. Not now. He leans forward, capturing Florian's mouth before he can say anything more.

Theo likes kissing Florian. It's different than kissing Mickle. Not as soft. Not as careful. Florian rolls him over, slides over him as they kiss. He's hard against Theo; his weight presses Theo into the pillows. The sheet twists around them, and Florian kicks it off as he pushes Theo's thighs wider.

Florian captivates Theo. He always has, from the first moment Theo laid eyes on him in Jellinek's tavern. He envies the other man's calm, envies his wisdom. There's a part of him that wants to be Florian.

Instead he fucks him.

Theo arches beneath Florian, presses up against him as their cocks rub together. He's breathing hard; his hands slip over Florian's sweat-slicked shoulders. He likes the way Florian's muscles move beneath his palms, the way his arms tighten with each steady rock of Florian's hips against Theo's. His cock aches. His moans grow louder, rising, mingling with Florian's gasps.

Florian's hair swings forward. It's damp with sweat, and it sticks on Theo's cheek as Florian leans in to kiss him again. Their tongues slide together; Florian bites Theo's bottom lip, hard and sharp.

"God," Theo groans, and his hips buck. "Please-"

He's cut off by another kiss, and Florian ruts against him, the head of his cock dragging wetly over Theo's hip.

Sex with Mickle is nothing like this. With Mickle, Theo's gentle, sweet, careful. He doesn't fuck her; they make love, moving together slowly, and with each thrust Theo's afraid of hurting her--she's small beneath him, fragile almost. He touches her, slides his fingers over her slick clit, but no matter what he does, it's almost never enough to make her shake beneath him, much to his frustration. When he finally collapses on her, gasping and trembling, his come leaking between her thin legs, she kisses his temple and tells him it's fine, really.

Theo never believes her.

Florian, though... Theo drags his fingernails over Florian's shoulders. More. He needs more, wants more--fuck.

"Please," he chokes out, tossing his head from side to side, and Florian moves faster, harder, his hand sliding between them to curl around their cocks. Theo slams his hand out, grasping anything, his fingers tangling in the sheets. Florian's never careful, never gentle. He takes what he wants from Theo, and Theo begs him...

He arches up, his toes digging into the mattress. "Florian!"

Florian twists his fingers around the heads of their cocks, pressing them together. It's too much for Theo. He groans, his throat stretched, and Florian closes his mouth on the curve of Theo's neck, sucking with each quick stroke of his fingers.

Theo comes with a cry, and Florian's hand moves faster, smearing warm come over their pricks. His teeth are sharp against Theo's skin. Theo grabs his hand, tangling his fingers with Florian's as he pulls at their cocks. He wants Florian to come, loves it when he pushes him over the edge, makes him call Theo's name.

He shoves Florian back and pushes his hand away. His fingers twist down Florian's shaft, and he watches Florian, watches his shoulders press into the pillows, his hair tumbling over his cheek.

Florian's face is flushed, his mouth open. His breath comes in sharp, short pants, and Theo knows he's close.

"Florian," Theo says again, his voice soft and heated, and Florian's fingers are in his hair, pulling him down into a rough, eager kiss.

Theo smooths his palm over Florian's balls, cupping them tightly. It's enough. Florian jerks beneath him, and he comes in hot, sticky spurts over Theo's fingers.

They lie still for a moment, Theo draped across Florian's chest. Florian's fingers slide over Theo's back, tracing the bumps of his spine. Theo knows he should leave. He knows he should stop coming here. He knows this threatens his future marriage, threatens the kingdom.

He knows all of this. He doesn't care.

Theo presses his face into Florian's chest. His skin is soft and warm. He can hear the steady thrum of Florian's heart. It calms him.

"Don't go," Florian says. His voice is a sleepy rumble.

It's mad, Theo's aware. If he leaves now, he can slip back into the Juliana before the guards are awake enough to stop him. "I should."

"Stay." Florian's fingers trace shapes on Theo's skin. It's a moment before Theo realizes they're letters.

M. I.... His breath catches. Mine.

Florian knows Theo. He knows The Kestrel within. It doesn't frighten him. He accepts Theo's sins, absolves them of him. No one else can.

Theo loves Mickle, but he loves Florian as well.

He stays.


End file.
